The uber taxi back to the Alamo car hire lot near to LAX airport cost a mere $8. The car was pristine and the driver was a friendly Mongolian who was due to return home within a few months. he gave me his email address for when I visit Ulaanbataar but I've sadly lost that information since.
Picking up the car was an interesting conveyor belt affair that I hadn't experienced before. I entered my reservation code in a machine, which took me through a few questions, then printed a ticket. Then all I had to do was go the area f the lot labelled "economy" and choose any car. The keys are in the door.
There was only one car in that area but they come and go as they are processed. The number plate was Oregon 599 HMG, I felt like James Bond. HMG is shorthand for Her Majesties Government for some people.
So then the process of familiarisation with the car began, and continued for some days. I have to admit that having an automatic transmission is a huge bonus when driving on the "wrong side" of the road.
I went over the body work for marks and exited the checkpoint. I mentioned some marks on the bumper and was told they don't bother with bumpers, just body work. It was in pretty good condition, just 5000 miles on the odometer.
I didn't figure out just how cheap petrol/ gas is in the US at first, but with this Kia Rio, I can drive for 400 miles on one tank, and a tank only cost $20 - $25 dollars to fill. What with the $12 a day rental, this is definitely the best way to travel the United States. My guess is that it has to be kept cheap because of the distances people need to cover to do business here. They think the cost is high, but then "they" often drive a pick up which likely uses two or three times the amount of fuel.
Out on the open road, I headed straight for the Pacific Coast Highway, (highway 1), keen to leave the city behind. The road winds along the coast, past Santa Barbara and up into less bust areas. In my excitement I drove past some police highway patrol vehicles (one facing in each direction ready to engage any "perps") at over 80 (in 55 zone), but they didn't give chase thankfully. I don't need this on the first day. I resolved to only driver 5-10% over the over changing speed limit.
I later discovered, that they don't send automated tickets to the registered owner in most places here. They usually only chase you down to give you a ticket. For weeks I wondered whether the car hire company had received something before I found out how the system worked. You can drive as fast as you like on the freeways in Las Vegas it seems, but everywhere else, watch out.
The Highway patrols do a great job, but someone tell US drivers that driving 3 metres from the car in front at 80 is a bad idea. They all seem to have it down to an art form but it freaked me out when I returned to the worst offending city (L.A.) and drove around a while. I'm not exaggerating when I say that that L.A. is the worst place on earth to drive. And the freeways particularly. These are used for most journeys across town, because as it's spread over such a wide area, it's often the best way to get anywhere in a reasonable amount of time. The metro system is laughable, apart from the red line which actually resembles something you might expect from a subway. When trains and cars went to war, the cars came in force. No contest!
I began to enjoy the drive. The roads are great outside of the city with a lot to look at en route. Up this way, it's mostly agriculture, but later on there's forest and coastal scenery.
My first stop on the road North was to be San Luis Obispo, a quaint town, that gives off a dreamy small town vibe that initially makes you want to go and live there. I don't know how long that feeling would last, as I was moving on the next morning.
I stayed in the Hostelling International place, which was pretty groovy. This was a long way from L.A. I'd made my escape.
One of the other guests and room mate of myself and two trainee pilots, was an American who told me he'd spent the previous night in his truck, which nearly caused him to loose his toes due to the cold. It's fascinating how everybody feels cold differently, but I don't expect it was that warm in there as nights do occasionally get a bit nippy. I think he was more used to San Diego weather which is even nicer than L.A.'s.
This guy looked a bit weird to my eye, and seemed a bit too keen to hang out. I tried to shake him, and his proposal to go and catch a beer, but he hung around a while, and when it was time for me to find food, we took the short walk to the centre together. He was tall and wiry, had face that suggested something of his hedonistic past. The pencil thin moustache and goatee is something I expect from an artist or semi-hippy type, but america has many of it's own sects of characters, that I haven't understood yet.
It was Wednesday and the farmer's market was on, and busy with patrons. I was told it's one of the biggest in California and there was a huge variety of foods and craft on offer as well as some street acts and musicians. It was like a mini festival, and of a quality sort.
I ordered an oven baked pizza from a trailer in the street. The buzz was good and numerous people hung about enjoying one. My companion for the night informed me that he really needed a beer, lets go find a bar while we wait. So we found a bar just in time for me to have to go back and grab my pizza, leaving him there to fuel up. Pizza was great, and I gobbled it down whilst walking amongst the stalls, caring nothing for what they had to offer, only the pizza that delivered me from hunger. Amen.
By the time I reached the bar, he was on his second drink and insisted on buying me a drink. I refused the offer but a few minutes later, a beer appeared in front of me. This guy knew how to talk with bar staff and was already bestest buddies.
So I drank the beer slowly, my new friend managed 2 or 3 in that time, then ordered shots when I said it was time for me to head off. He drank both shots and mentioned that he's had a couple more while I was off collecting my pizza. Oh, I thought. Oh. That's... funny.
We had to go via a liquor store to get this guy some smokes of course. I wonder if he bought anything else in there? I didn't notice but maybe he did because later back at the hostel he was supping on huge 2 pint glass of beer. Right. I think there was some talk about drinking too much from him earlier, but a lot of people say that from time to time. Were there any clues up to this point? Yeah, this is an interesting one, wait for it.
When you stay in a hostel, you can expect lack of privacy and a strange character now and then, but this guy was about to reach the strangest level.
At 3 am I was awoken by a fuss in the room. Another american national had come in to find our drinking friend standing behind the door with his dick out, whilst holding the garbage bin in front.
The exact quote was, "I don't know what you're doing, but you need to take it somewhere else." The pilots also awoke, and the dutch one started pointing at our strange room mate who had only stepped outside the room, "I can still see him, he's still... close the door." Much laughter and piss taking ensued. The Dutch guy being the loudest disapprover. I felt slightly embarrassed for the guy but this is probably the weirdest thing I can remember happening in a hostel. My guess is that he's a little bit crazy, a little bit alcoholic and a little bit attracted to guys, but in a freaky kind of way.
Once the furore had died down, and everyone had gone back to sleep, out weirdo sneaked back in, took up his bags and left, never to be seen again, probably for another night in his truck.
The next day, the story was the highlight of the morning conversation. This was only the fourth night in the US. Please don't let this be a common occurrence.
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